SPLITTER
by Jay Puma
Summary: Two separate personalities inside one mind. But the clock is ticking for them, since their mind is tearing apart, not to mention being persecuted for being a Witch AND a Reaper by a cult while searching for his true parents. R&R please. ALSO poll on my profile for fans check it out
1. Chapter 1

_**SPLITTER**_

Witches and reapers never got along. It all started some two thousand years ago, when witches started to mess with the reaping process, like driving a soul to madness before it needed to die, therefore altering the fate of the soul. This began a tremendous split, branding witches as demons and reapers as an authority not to be taken seriously. No reaper hesitated in killing a witch, and no witch thought twice about screwing up a reaper's reaping.

And yet… a new creature was born of the secret alliance between these two, forever split between two worlds…

* * *

_How much LONGER?! Ugh, I SWEAR these Mobians…_

_ Be patient with them. You know what happened last time we went out of control, don't you?_

_ 'Course I do. But now I think they're just asking for it!_

The silvery hog tapped his foot on the restaurant's floor. He always had these two in head, _his_ voices, and it was, _really, _like two separate parts of his conscience. But they _were _him, too; the first, groaning one made his foot tap, and the other one was making sure he didn't start calling out how bad the service was. He wore a brown coat, gray dress pants and an odd black one piece like a swimsuit. He also wore black fingerless gloves and aviator sunglasses.

"Here you go, kid," the barkeep slid the soda towards him. "Where're you from?"

_Oh, _the calm one flinched with his body. _I forgot that this is a small town._

"Well, up north, near Holoska," he lied in a mumble. His snow-white mane gave him the idea. Barkeep bought it as he cleaned a glass. The place was dead, like the only customers were unseen spirits. But even that wasn't true.

The hog had finished his soda and set the empty can down when the doors to the place busted open behind him, laughing. They moved towards the bar and took up all the seats beside him, until he was tossed off his own by the last one. He growled.

_That—_

_ Don't do it. Don't start a fight. Let's just pay for the soda and get out of here._

He thought about it and decided to toss the barkeep a five-coin. "Keep the change," he grumbled as he walked outside.

"WHAT THE _ #$#%?! WHICH ONE OF YOU # %- $# %&^$%# &$%#$ %$-UP MY BIKE?!"_

"Problem, Fluffy?" the guy who shoved him out of his seat snickered.

_I'll kick his— _Then he noted the line of motorcycles that were on the other side of the building. He spotted the jerk's one, a very expensive, pimped-up bike. He wheeled both his bike and the jerk's into an alley.

Not in of caravan's interest anymore, he disassembled the bike before the douche decided to emerge from the restaurant. Like the hog, he too, was pretty PO'd.

"Problem, douchebag?"

_"I'll freaking kill you!" _His beefy hand clamped around his furry neck and slammed him against the wall.

"Kill…_Pwaaah!" _he started cackling loudly, nearly crying. His body started to gleam with a bright light, then his silhouette split in half, escaping grip of the jerk.

There were _two _of him. The one who was laughing was dressed oddly, wearing one striped arm warmer, black fingerless gloves, the leather one-piece, earrings, and black jeans with a different color crotch. He held a black pointed hat his right hand.

"Kill _us? Ahaha. Yeah, right. _You can't kill us with just _anything, _ahahahah!"

"You idiot," the other one, smartly dressed, holding a staff with a huge blade on it. "Don't you see that he knows about us now?"

"Oh puh-leeze, Reaper," the punk retorted. "He threatened to kill us, remember?"

"And you know that Mobians can't kill us. Not when we're one."

"Oh!"-he tripped the fleeing Mobian and planted a foot on him. "Not so fast buddy. We still need to figure out what to do with you, since you've seen what we are, and that you threatened to kill us."

_"Wahh-wah-what the $#% are you?!" _

"Oh. We're Fluffy, remember, you douche?"

The quiet one growled as he fixed his sunglasses. "He said "what", not "who", Witch. We are the two halves of a Splitter: a Mobian with two types of blood in his system, capable of dividing himself into the two creatures of his blood; in this case, a Grim Reaper—"

"And a Witch!" The punk kicked the Mobian into the wall as he said it. "Now you're gonna get it, 'cause that bike you tipped was our $# &% broom, %#$%#*!" He grabbed the confused one by clutching the collar. "You have any idea what that can do to us, you stupid $ #%*# _IMBECILLE?!"_

_ "I'm sorry-sorrry, pleeease don't—"_

"Oh, you'd better be lucky it's in tip-top- $#%# condition, #$ %-wad, otherwise we'd be _so #$ %ed that you'd be $#%& in the after-#$ %&-life, GET IT, #%^$#*?!"_

_ "WAAAAAAHHHHHH!"_

_ "SO WE'RE JUST GONNA KICK YOUR #*$% AROUND UNTIL WE FEEL BETTER, $#%*#!"_

* * *

"You're an idiot, you know that, right? We just beat up some guy because he tipped our bike."

"You mean our_ broom," _retorted the Witch half. "Our broom's never been tampered with before. We don't know what's gonna happen to us if she gets broken!" He diligently eyed their motorcycle as he wheeled her along. The Reaper let out an agreeing, defeated sigh.

They both shrugged simultaneously. They felt like they were supposed to be twins that somehow got screwed up and became a splitting only child. And they had to be a Witch-and-Reaper too!

"Look, we just need to be more careful about where we leave our broom, okay?" the Witch offered. "That way we don't get $#%ed about idiots who screw with her."

"Fair enough," the Reaper agreed. They walked alongside each other as the sun set behind them, their shadows crossing and becoming one. If they were together, there would be two shadows, but for now, there was one.

"Do you think about our parents, Reaper?"

"Sometimes… We try to figure out how this ever happened … since Witches and Reapers are enemies, it's hard to picture why we're here."

"D'you think they loved each other?"

"…Goddess knows," he said, but they prayed in their heart that they did. Why else would they let him live if they hated the child who reminded them of each other?

They walked for a few blocks down until they came across a cathedral with dark stained-glass windows. The Witch parked his broom along the door and walked in with the Grim Reaper.

The rows of pews were empty as they walked down the aisle. The window's art shone along the floor as the sun died out.

The stained glass depicted a beautiful Mobian holding a locked box, surrounded by young ones. The next was the box in full detail; thick, jeweled, gold-edged silver box, a masterpiece. Then, it was unhinged, releasing screaming, horrid faces on the young Mobians in a plume of black. The last was a glowing gentle light coming out afterwards.

They kneeled at the end of the chapel, in front of another depiction of the beautiful Mobian with the box, and began to pray:

"O Merciful Pandora, Great Mother, please watch over us, an unworthy Splitter born of Witch and Grim Reaper, that we may be able those who would pursue us.

"Heavenly Mother, please watch over our parents, that if we cross paths we will not be a danger or a burden to them, since they were brave and kind enough to let us live a good life as a Mobian, knowing neither of Witch- nor Reaper-kind until we were too old not to.

"O Pandora, if it be your will, please let us find a way to end this feud between your children as we are both Witch and Reaper. Please also let us be able to discover who our parents were without bringing hurt, harm or danger upon them. Merciful Mother, please let us also know if they loved us and each other as well.

"Please forgive us of our sins and shortcomings, Dear Lady. In your name we pray…"-Silver fused together and looked straight ahead with gleaming amber eyes, "Amen."


	2. Chapter 2

"The city of Talaiporia was locked away from us Mobians for a reason," the leader proclaimed. "It is filled with all the horrible things we are plagued with now, personified!" His audience agreed with a murmur. "Witches that torment us with envy, lust and madness! Grim Reapers that plague us with old age and death!" The muttering grew angrier. "Life without Talaiporians was paradise for Mobians! Pandora was right in sealing her horrible children away from us, and it is our mistake for opening it.

"So now, we must right our wrongs."

* * *

The bike purred as Splitter Silver rode on the highway. Shapely, it looked like any top-line motorcycle, but the design of this one was odd; the light blue paint was sprinkled with odd shapes and symbols in a dark indigo. The panel lights were cyan, and for now, nothing was wrong.

"Good thing that %$#* didn't break it," he muttered as he followed the sun. "Now, where's that exit?"

_Hey! We need to call Mom! _The Reaper remembered.

_# %$, that's right. _Silver made for the next exit, a gas station with a payphone coming into view. Slowing the bike up to the curb, he kicked down the kick stand and walked over to the phone. Slipping a few small coins into it, he dialed a number whose area code was worlds away.

"Silver?! Silver is that you?" a voiceasked, and when confirmed, went on with, "Oh, are you all right, sweetie? We're so worried about you!"

"I'm fine, Mom, honest," he mumbled. "How's everything going?"

"It's been lonely without you, Silver… After you left like that, we-we thought maybe you wouldn't come back, that you didn't love us-"

"No, no! Of course I love you, I love all of you guys, and I promise, I'll come back. I just have to take care of a few things, first, and then I'm coming straight home. I promise I'll never run off again, I swear."

There was sniffling. "Well, you be safe, Silver… We all love you."

"I love you all too," he said, a small tear in the corner of his eye. "Goodbye." He hung up and let the tear fall. Oh… Oh, Goddess, _why? _He could've easily lived the rest of his life as a Mobian, a Mobian with split-personality disorder, nothing more! No Witches, Reapers or anything else! He would've never left Vienna, Florence and Venice like that, _ever. _He could've easily ignored his splitting sides!

_But… you know, _the Reaper recalled, _we're coming of age. Come December 16__th__, we have to make a decision._

_ Yeah, we know. We have to choose. Choose between us. _Silver's belly rumbled, ending the conversation. Through the glass, all the snacks in the store had expired, the hot food was invaded by flies, and the slushie machine was hidden behind a cardboard "Out-of-Order" sign.

He got back on the highway, the long road overshadowed by the mountain range. The next sign said a town was about 42 miles away. It'd be Witch Hour by then.

_ %#$, not a rest stop for miles!_

_ Easy, Reaper; I see some lights ahead. _They belonged to a worn-out restaurant on the side of the highway, with lights on, and a sign-thank Goddess- that said open 24 hours. He walked his broom to the nearest lit parking space and walked in, triggering the bell on the door.

Though near-deserted, the place was clean, and the scents from the kitchen were inviting. The Splitter sat down in a booth facing the kitchen door, kicking his feet up and crossing his legs.

_We might have to camp on the roof tonight, _Reaper warned. Witch bit his tongue; retorts turned into jinxes once he said them.

A Mobian in a pink waitress uniform skated towards him, shivering. "Good-good evening, s-sir. What would you like to drink?"

"You have cola-slushies?" he asked. She nodded and skated off. _This place seems…off._

Witch's hair prickled. _Feel that? _Silver glanced over the wall to check the other customers. A trucker was asleep, but in the corner sat a man with a nametag, like the waitress'. In fact, the waitress stopped and whispered in his ear before going into the kitchen again. The Mobian walked towards the corner where he could see Silver.

The waitress came about five minutes later, a shaking mess. "Here you go, s-s-s-s-sir." As she set it down, a purple bruise peeked out from her sleeve.

"Everything okay, doll?" Silver asked, making her flinch. The man leaned in.

"N-no-no I'm fine," she replied, skating away after setting down the menu. The Splitter picked it up and looked it over, and when he peeked over the menu, the man was across from him. The hog picked up his slush. He was a shade darker than the bunny waitress, with gray around his muzzle.

"How is everything tasting, sir?" he asked. Silver just hummed a so-so. "Where are you from?"

"Holoska."

"Alone?"

"Yeah. Old man kicked me out of the nest with sixty coins to my name."

"It's late, and not a motel for miles. Would you like to stay overnight?"

"Resting sounds nice, actually. How much do you charge?"

"Excellent. Complimentary with dinner, of course," he said, smiling. "Just walk into my office in the back when you're finished." And he walked over to the front door, then back into the kitchen.

When the bunny came back she was quaking, and pale. "Ar-ar-ar-are-are you ready to order, s-si-si—"

"Aw, what's the matter, babydoll?" he stood up and guided her to the booth, and she broke.

"Oh, please," she whispered hurriedly, "please help my dad! He's not himself- I don't know what's wrong-but something _is _wrong, _please—"_

"Shu-shush-shush," he said, sitting her down into the booth. "Okay. I'll help your dad, I just need you to stay here and if I tell you to call 911, you'll do it, right?" She nodded, blinking away small tears. "It'll be okay."

The Splitter made his way into the kitchen, where dishes were piled up in the sink. Iron reeked from the red smears leading from the office to the back door. _So he is… _

Silver opened the door to find the rabbit sitting patiently behind the desk. "Finished already, sir?"

"Oh, I eat like a bird when I'm on the road. Sorry I'm not as fattened up as you hoped I'd be before dinner time, right mister?"

"What? What do you mean?"

"My room's in your stomach, right, you * #$%-ugly *%#$."

The bunny fell like a puppet as the spirit burst out of him, as ugly as Witch had said, gurgling and snarling. "#$% *! I'LL MAKE YOU SUFFER!"

Witch jumped as Reaper ducked. The flashier landed on his extended tentacle and puffed. "Goddess, you're fugly," he said, taking care to drive his heels into the skin of the cringing monster. He waved his hand, and cyan light formed into a pistol as he strolled towards him. "Bet if I %#$ed up your face I'd be doing you a favor, huh, big guy?"

"A-a Witch? B-but-"

The other half of his limb was sliced off by the Reaper. "Leave. Or face the consequences for all of the souls you've imprisoned in your hellish stomach," he said, adjusting the shades.

"A-a-a _Splitter?!_ Of _Witch and Reaper?! What the %$#* is going on?!"_

BANG! The demon recoiled as purple blood splurted out of his eye. Witch sprung off the whipping bleeding limb and shot down his back. Reaper sliced up from the base of the monster to its mouth, being careful not to sever the fleeing spirits.

_"Noooooooo! My meals!"_

"Shut the #$% up, %$#* face!" Witch shouted as he kicked the green blob's face, opening more holes in his face with his high heel. "Let 'em go and get the %#^ out."

" %#* you, Splitter! $#% you and your $%#* parents!"

"How dare you torment those souls," Reaper growled. "The only reason you've been able to catch that many is because the soul isn't released in the open!"

The monster lunged, pinning the bristling hedgehog to the ground, drooling over him. The scythe went flying to the far side of the room. "Heh heh… good thing Reapers are meals that last a lifetime!"

Witch grabbed the scythe but the spirit's other tentacles wrapped him down, too. "And Witches make good meals as well! Imagine just how long a young Splitter like you will last in my stomach."

"Go to bloody %#$# hell," Witch growled, making his pistol dissipate.

"Eh-heh-heh. Ironic you should say so. They don't call us Hell-Bellies for nothing!" As he laughed, Reaper's clenched fist glew with cyan light, shaping into a sword, which he shoved into the blob's throat.

"Suck on that, %$# face," Reaper puffed, able to keep the twitching, dying monster more than ten times his size above him as he stood up. The arms holding his other half went limp, allowing Witch to stroll over and meld with Reaper.

"My regards to the Devil," Splitter Silver muttered, as he flicked the fading corpse off his weapon, which too faded away before the bunny regained conciseness. "Call an ambulance!" he cried to the rabbit girl in the other room as he ran to her father's side. " #$%!" He forgot to cut the leech away before he killed it; this man might be dying painfully as well. "Hey, hey, stay awake!" he demanded, shaking the man.

"Wha-what's going on?" he gasped, sounding out of breath. If he died-

"$% # it! Stay alive!" _We can't get the Reapers on our tails!_

Thank Goddess the paramedics were able to save him before putting him on a gurney to take him to the nearest hospital. Silver had "Mobian-ized" the story; he'd been acting strange likely from eating something undercooked.

"Yes, that's the likely explanation," the paramedic agreed, taking notes. "We'll run more tests at the hospital to confirm. Do you know this man at all?"

"No, sir, I was just looking for the bathrooms and found him in the office."

"And where do you live?"

"I travel. I don't really call anywhere home. I was hoping to stay here until morning."

The other nodded and turned away. The daughter walked over to him, still teary-eyed. "Oh, oh thank you so much! For not telling," she whispered. "They would've thought… that he was a _monster _or something. Thank you."

She and the others left in the ambulance. The rabbit had also locked up the restaurant too, so the Splitter and trucker were left standing under a flickering light. " $#%," Silver growled, alongside his stomach.

"Hey, kid," he started, then coughed, "where you heading?"

"Soleanna," the hog replied. "And you?"

"I'm heading a bit further east, but I can take you as far as the edge of Spangonia."

"Thanks," Silver said, grabbing his motorcycle. "I appreciate it."

* * *

The souls that escaped the Hell-Belly soon crossed paths with young Reapers. At first confused, the Reapers eventually led the souls to their final destinations. "Weird… these souls died weeks ago," one noted.

"They escaped a Hell-Belly," a dark, new figure clarified. "They eat the Mobians alive and get energy from them until the soul becomes so weak that it just evaporates, just like an animal's when it dies."

The group was in complete reverence of the dark figure, not daring to even confirm who they believed it was. "Oh…oh my Goddess," they whispered. "It's…it's him."

"Now, might I ask: do you know where they came from? Hell-Bellies are tricky nasty %# s, and sometimes they're in groups. I'll need to investigate the area for more, to make sure it didn't spawn before it died."

The group pointed in the direction of the highway, and the other Reaper nodded and headed that way with a "thank you." To a Mobian, he was just a dark hedgehog with red eyes and red stripes on his quills, wearing a nice four-piece suit (blazer-vest-shirt-pants). But to Talaiporians, he was nothing less than the ultimate Grim Reaper: Grim Reaper Shadow.

_So I was right… he's heading to the festival… better let _her _know._


	3. Chapter 3

No doubt about it. This pale dead trace in the shape of a green, blob-like creature sliced and stabbed in different places, was a remnant of a Hell-Belly. Reaper Shadow inspected the creature closely, unafraid of a Mobian walking in and finding a strange hedgehog staring at nothing.

Mobians couldn't see the corpses of malevolent spirits like Hell-Bellies, but Grim Reapers saw all the dead bodies of any creature with significant deaths. Animals who never thought like Mobians just dissipated, but things like spirits died and left traces. Sure, Mobians _could _probably see them, since there were those "psychics" and "mediums", but many didn't believe in ghosts and other things. All Mobians and animals _sensed _spirits like that, but very few could see them.

And Witches and Reapers appeared as normal, albeit strangely dressed on some occasions, Mobians. Reapers were classy businessmen and women while Witches were enticingly or scantily dressed, beautiful, alluring, be_witch_ing women, rarely men.

Witches, Reaper Shadow let out a puff. So obnoxious. He couldn't believe that it Mobians couldn't see the tell-tale signs of them: hats, usually pointed, traveled by bicycles or motorcycles, and dark clothing. Just as Reapers wore glasses, suits and ties, and were very straightforward, expressionless Mobians. But at least Reapers weren't as out of place as exotic and erotic women who clearly were committing indecent exposure.

Shadow was puzzled to see the eye had burst, as if it was…shot by a magic bullet. But the killing wound was definitely caused by a Reaper's blade…

So… there _was _a Splitter born of Witch and Reaper blood here… any Reaper who inspected this corpse would learn that. But not that it'd be the most believable explanation; many Talaiporians kept trophy weapons from the other kind. Reaper Shadow had an elongated handgun, which fired magic bullets as well, but were Reaper-specific. It side had the words "Sweet Vengeance" in sweeping handwriting. Only one other person could fire it besides him.

So the Reaper stood and walked out of the closed shop, looking down the highway. It led to Spangonia, and from Spangonia one could reach Soleanna. Soleanna was expected to hold a gathering of Witches fairly soon… If a Splitter of Witch-Reaper blood was searching for his mother then that would be the ideal place to start.

Made sense if that was the case. Well, the Splitter made a horrible mistake if he wanted to keep his two sides a secret; there was no way of hiding a recent corpse from Reaper kind. But as long as no one else died in this vicinity, this corpse had already been checked out by Shadow, so no Reapers would be able to look over and notice the magic bullet holes and scythe wounds.

Well, the Splitter would be encountering flocking Witches as he passed through to the gathering. Better make sure he didn't kill those not expected to die soon. Reaper Shadow started to walk down along the long highway that passed through Spangonia.

* * *

Splitter Silver was laying in the space behind the front seats of the cab. He was just about ready to fall asleep. The driver figured as much and wanted to be on a first name basis before his hitchhiker fell asleep in his truck.

"My name's Rick," he grunted. Not in a mean way, his voice was just rough and aged. "And you?"

"Well… I'm Argyros," Silver said, recalling a bit of Greek. Most Talaiporians knew at least how to call themselves in Greek. Many people assumed, if they could tell it was Greek, that they were from Apotos.

Rick puffed. "Sure that's what you wanna go by, kid?"

"You can call me Argyle, if you want." The driver hummed approval, and the conversation ended. Silver pulled out a sleep mask he ordered from cauldron-dot-box-dot-co, which subdued the Witch's need to party, haunt and be naughty until dawn. He used it once he started getting the urges of the two Talaporians he was born to be.

And come December 16th, he'd have to choose which to become, even though he was both of them.

_It just doesn't seem fair…_

_Yeah, even though I think Reapers suck#%$% I don't think that you should go away._

…_um… thanks._

_ There must be another way, Reaper. Isn't there?_

_ I'm not sure. I hope so._

They yawned. _Well, Reaper, time for some well-deserved beauty sleep—not that I need it of course._

_ You are _so_ conceited…_

* * *

"Grandpa," one young Mobian girl tugged on the sleeve of the elder, "why are the Witches and Reapers so bad? Do they hate us?"

He kneeled down to meet the little girl's eyes. "Why… no, my dear. Even though they're known to cause trouble and death and other nasty bad things, I don't believe that they hate us. Witches have been especially prosecuted from the very beginning, for their magic qualities and the rumors of being demons… but they have never outwardly called us out for an attack.

"I don't believe that they're so evil that they deserve to die. They're people, too. What we call 'animal instinct' is probably the same for them. Now, I know that your mother and father were victims to a terrible Witching incident. Those things happen, but as there are criminals in our world, there must be some in theirs.

"Do you know that the Talaiporians have been in a civil-cold war for a very long time? The Reapers and Witches are against each other, not hesitating to attack each other when they meet. They have problems, too."

"What if there was a Witch and Reaper that liked each other?" she wondered. "What kind of baby would it be?"

"My dear child, Talaiporians can have _Mobian _children, too."

"What?"

"Since Witches and Reapers can blend in with Mobians, their children can be normal like us, or Reapers and Witches too." A passing Mobian stopped to listen to the conversation, especially interested about the whole talk about Witches and Reapers.

"What if a Witch and Reaper baby wasn't a Mobian either? Would it be a Witch, or a Reaper?"

"Well, it could be either."

"Hey-uh," the young Mobian joined in. "What-what about a-um, a Splitter? What're those?"

"A _Splitter?" _the old man wondered. "Where did you hear that?"

"Uh, um, somebody said it- they said they were the halves of something like that."

"Well, I've never actually heard of a Splitter in the flesh. Especially with this civil-cold war with the two, it's practically unheard of now."

"What's a Splitter, anyway?" the little girl asked.

"It's an odd sort of Talaiporian. A Splitter is a Witch and a Reaper, but not like you'd think. It has _two _different sides to itself. Since it has these sides, it can literally _split_ itself into a Witch and Reaper, which look like the Splitter's body, but have the respective qualities of their sides.

"But the Splitter, like all the other Talaiporians when they come of age, must mature into a Witch or Reaper. There are rumors that a Splitter's sides split away from each other, and the Splitter dies."

_"Dies?" _the Mobian and granddaughter echoed, gulping.

"Of course. The Splitter's mind is made up of _two different _mindsets, but they are the Splitter's, just as we argue with ourselves on decisions.

"And that's why there's no possible way that a Splitter can survive for very long. Compared to Witches and Reapers, which can last for centuries on end without growing old, a Splitter has the lifespan of a housefly."

The Mobian nodded and continued to walk away, when he was pulled aside by a hooded figure, just as tall, maybe taller.

"Hey," he whispered, "you said you saw a _Splitter?_" The way he said "Splitter" was as if it was a dead rat in the kitchen or something.

"Uh, maybe," he mumbled.

"Did you see it; see it _split _before your very eyes?"

"Yeah. Yeah I did. And I got beat up by him."

"Did it say its _name?" _He clenched the Mobian's shirt very tightly, and said this sentence very fast, as if the information was important. And he also still referred to him as "it."

"N-n-no."

"What did it look like? Before it _split."_

He began to describe the silvery hedgehog with spiky hair, white mane, yellow eyes, brown long coat, gray pants, and the odd black one piece.

"He also has this light-blue motorcycle," the Mobian said. The head of the hood nodded, releasing the grip and disappearing into the shadows.

* * *

Splitter Silver sat up, as if remembering something, but without a sound. He pushed up his sleep mask off his eyes and looked around. Rick was not in the cab, but a flickering neon sign read "Truck Stop: Vacancy."

The hedgehog glanced around with his ears perked. He tried to clear out all the sounds that his big ears picked up in order to find out what woke him up.

_Did someone say our name? _

_ No… but someone was talking about us… _Talaiporians had this taboo about names; when one said another's name, they immediately knew who had said it. But Witch couldn't hear the conversation clearly, so they must've just been talking about him without mentioning his name...

I guess everything is fine… Silver pushed the sleep mask back into place and lay back down to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The ears of the pale gray hedgehog twitched slightly. Not that anything in the club she was sitting in was making a noticeable uproar; she picked up angry muttering from some place far out of earshot. A waitress barely clothed asked for a drink order.

"Give me a Mystic's brew," she said, "and a Strawberry Benevento." The girl nodded and strutted off as an even scantier woman with an elegant air to her took a seat in the hedgehog's booth.

"Is everything to your liking, Ms. Insanity?" she purred, with a posture that flaunted her figure and clothes.

"Yes, thank you, Ms. Envy," Ms. Insanity replied, giving a curt nod. "Such a nice place; there's so much… so much _jealousy _and _hatred, _oohhhhh… anybody could just _lose their mind _in here."

"I know," she replied, laughing. "There's nothing better than helping other ladies while helping yourself, am I right, Selene?" The ladies nodding, giggling as the waitresses came back with a dark chalice filled with blue-gray liquid, a curvy glass with deep-red slush with an umbrella, and a purple martini. Selene and Ms. Envy _clink_ed the curved glass and the martini together and drank.

"Do you mind, Viridian?" Selene asked, motioning towards the chalice. Ms. Envy nodded and turned away.

Playing with her short pale hair, she pulled her slender fingers away and smiled when light reflected off a strand. She twirled the same finger into the brew, and it began to glow with pink light. The hedgehog blew onto the drink, turning the glowing liquid blue. Selene picked the brew up and began to sip the liquid. It was hard, like water that tasted like stone. She set the drink down, panting after downing the drink.

"So how are things, Selene?" Viridian asked, her emerald faceted eyes glimmering. "Are you heading to the gathering?"

"Ah, of course," she said, sipping her Benevento. "Anybody who's anybody goes. If I didn't show up, somebody's going to try and over throw me."

"I know," the other replied. "I remember when _I _had gotten a name for myself. Heh-heh, though every leering eye was just feeding me more power. I don't know what to tell you, Selene. Being the Witch that you are, with the name and the power, I don't know how to get it in your head."

"I don't expect you to. I'm absolutely _mad, _Viridian, and nothing can change that." She whistled and a large gray-headed bat fluttered onto her palm and climbed up her forearm. The hedgehog whispered into its small ear, which twitched before it flew off and out of the club.

* * *

Splitter Silver's stomach gurgled as he tossed around in his sleeping bag. His stomach was caving in. Goddess, when was his last good meal? He growled, wrenching off his sleep mask to get up and out of the cab of Rick's semi. He climbed out and shut the door behind him, the lock clicking just as it was when Rick had left him inside.

The hog looked around the truck stop for a vending machine, finding one with a flickering bulb. There were a few bags of nacho cheese chips and some candy bars. He stuck out his tongue in disgust; though starving, he was especially finicky. He looked around for a convenience store. Well, anyway, no use; closed.

"Goddess*$#%&%$!" he swore, kicking a pebble. There _had _to be some fast food or something! He fell to his knees; a few sips of a cola slushie only go so far. He winced at the pains his stomach was giving him. He clawed at the dirt under him.

A shrieking snapped him to look up. He'd thought it'd been a Witch's cackle, but as he looked up he saw in the dark moonless night, black wings flapping towards him against something white. Six or eight bats surrounded a giant bat carrying a paper bag. The small bats kept their altitude but the large bat lowered to the ground, setting the bag down before letting go with its feet and setting down beside the bag. It nudged the bag towards the Splitter like a dog.

It was a bag from a Mickey Zee, a popular fast-food joint. Silver's mouth watered at the smell of a double-decker and fries. As he inspected the bag, another large bat dropped down with a 44 oz. cola slush in its claws.

"Thank Goddess," he said, biting into the burger. Seeing the hedgehog eating and grateful, the large bats flapped into the air towards the smaller bats and disappeared. Silver waved to the bats as he chewed the meal.

"Always bats," he mumbled through the mouthful. Ever since Silver was a kid, bats had been the bearers of gifts. They'd brought him his magic-weapon "Heartbreaker", and his broom, though they merely led him to where it was waiting to be picked up, paid-in-full.

But there was also the raven. The black bird was always somewhere in the backyard or front yard, watching the little hedgehog. And he remembered sometime before he got "Heartbreaker" the raven had placed his death-weapon "Jack Ripper" on his windowsill. The raven was never seen again after flying off into the sky.

Splitting started during puberty; that's when Talaiporians start to exhibit future behaviors. Witches become rebellious, Reapers become morbid, etc.

Well, during some times of the middle school day, Silver would be extremely showy and crude, while other times, he was disturbingly morbid and quiet. Silver's parents were pulled aside once the teachers began to discuss the shifts in behaviors. A discussion with the school psychiatrist essentially determined the hog to have dissociative identity disorder. And sure, that seemed pretty reasonable, but it didn't explain how he saw two halves of himself on the far sides of the mirror, and how his shadow split into two figures.

Or the day when the flamboyant one _split _Silver in half, having Silver's appearance, just like the morbid one. Both were in shock and bewildered, and the morbid one shoved the other away from sight, wanting answers.

"What just happened?!" he said, as his other half said, "What the _^#$& _just happened?!"

"Who _are _you?"

"Who the _&%$# _are you?"

"_Answer me!" _they screamed at each other. They wandered around in the clearing for a little bit, wondering what exactly was going on, and why this was happening.

"Look, I'm Silver."

"And so am I!" the other exclaimed. Then, both curious, they touched fingertips. When they did, a cyan light began to glow and then, they held hands, which made the glow brighter.

When they melded together, Silver patted himself down, wondering just exactly what had happened just now. It was like he was _two _people; two sets of eyes, ears, noses, mouths, and actions.

_What the _*&%^$...

_Stop cursing! _

_You gotta problem?! This #*%$ is &#%&$*% _weird, _and I'm freaking out!_

_So am _I, _but I don't curse! _

_Yeah, well, I only curse when Mom's not around-_

She'd skin me alive, they said in unison, and it clicked. They _were _Silver, just-just two different sides to himself, like the good angel on the right shoulder and the bad devil on the left, but they weren't _completely _good or bad- just-just- _different._

Silver lived keeping the sides hidden, which was doable with the help of self-control issues. Though, being Silver, the sides would peek out occasionally: at the checkout, the complete works of Edgar Allen Poe (since they never seem to sell individual works), a neon lime yellow shirt with a cartoon middle finger on it, some fingerless, striped and fish-netted, a ring with a sparkling skull on it, and some decorative straps. It wasn't too bad at first.

Then it was increasingly apparent that he liked weapons. Shiny sharp blades… Glinting guns and bullets… The little hog would be scolded by his mother for staying up to watch a violent program on TV. He began to mimic slicing throats, stabbing, and capping off annoying classmates. Once the morbid side wanted to see how his own blood tasted like, and suddenly his palm's skin felt sliced as red blood began to leak from it.

As Morbid was trying to figure the strange thing out, Wicked sucked at the blood, staining his lips red with the sticky iron fluid, purring, as if he gained some masochistic pleasure from drinking his own blood.

"Double, double, toil and bubble," he said, sliding his tongue over the cut. And then it seemed to click for Wicked and Morbid.

A Witch. Wicked was a Witch. That's why during Macbeth Wicked seemed so prominent, so filled with déjà vu as if listening to a family story and imagining going through it, knowing without looking the lines the three witches and Hecate say without hesitation, without mispronunciation, fully in character, with added hand motions; in his room he circled the piles of notes on his bed, turning, dancing, cackling, as if in a trance when memorizing the cauldron scene.

This made Silver want to know why he wanted to kill and watch something die, was he a sociopath or was it just part of the Witch? No, he wasn't, because Witch had no idea either. Surely Morbid wasn't just a side of him interested in death, dying, murder, aging, decay… he had to be something else.

When his teachers, as any student usually comes across this Shakespearean play, began to cover Hamlet, Morbid and Witch grew jovial, especially Morbid, and he felt that same historical déjà vu as the characters plotted their plans of exacting revenge, and Witch joining in as the characters displayed their madness.

The funeral of Vienna's stepmother gave Morbid a name. Thank Goddess Silver hadn't done it at the service. The hotel was not far from the graveyard, and he sat up and looked the clock on his side of the bed (since he was sharing with Venice). Two forty.

Morbid split away from Witch at the graveyard, and began talking to the tombstones and making strange motions. A crow landed near where Morbid was "dancing" among the graves.

"Isn't that the Danse Macabre you're doing?" Witch called out.

Both were surprised as the name sparked déjà vu again. Morbid seemed to know, but Witch wasn't sure.

"Yeah…that's what I'm doing…" He snapped his fingers. "Witch! That's it! I'm a Grim Reaper!"

* * *

One day Silver's parents pulled the hog aside to tell him the truth about his _real_ parents. They'd found him on their doorstep one night in December, with a raven perched beside him, placing a strip of paper on the bundle before flapping back to let Florence pick up the whimpering bundle and the paper.

The small strip looked like it'd been torn from a birth certificate, it was the birthdate alone: December 16, which had been merely half a week ago. Having a baby boy of their own, Venice, born in July the year before, and judging by his size, this hedgehog was a newborn. So they took him in, raising him up alongside Venice, and they named him Silver, after his shimmering shiny fur.

The Hedgehogs were normal Mobians who had adopted a Witch-Reaper thing unknowingly. By now, Silver knew about Witches and Grim Reapers, _Talaiporians, _they were called, since they came from the Great Mother's Box, Talaiporia, whose capital was Elysia. Talaiporia was in the vicinity of Soleanna and Apotos, and Mobians couldn't go inside it. Currently, there was a feud going on with the Magic and the Death, the Witches and the Reapers.

So why was he _both _if the two hated each other for thousands of years? That's what the young Splitter had to find out. He had to find his mother and father and ask them why. If they didn't want him, then why did they let him live in torment?

More importantly, there was a splitting pain in his head as Witch and Reaper grew more powerful. An awful pain, feeling very real, as if his brain was slowly being pulled apart.

He had to find out what was going on, so with Heartbreaker, Jack Ripper and Broom, he began heading towards Elysia. He had no idea that the migraine was a fatal trauma, which would only be dulled once his life ended.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey," a voice gruffed. "Hey, uh, Argyle." Splitter Silver pushed up on the right eye of the sleep mask, seeing Rick nudging him awake. The Mobian saw his partially opened eye and continued, "Hey kid. Sorry to bother you. The breakfast here is &*%$, so we're gonna keep going until we get to a Penny's or something. That all right with you?"

Silver hummed, lowering his sleep mask again. It was actually more like a normal sleep mask now, since it was past Witching hour, but it didn't really matter; the lights in the cab were blaring. He pulled the sleeping bag over his head and turned towards the rear of it.

He hoped Mom, Dad and Venice were doing okay without him. He really meant it when he said he go right back home. Witch, Reaper, Mobian or Splitter, they were his family. They'd stayed with him through thick and thin.

When Silver's hand had been seemingly cut by nothing and licked it, it had been some time during lunch break. A couple kids actually saw him kiss his bloody palm, but everyone saw the bloody stain on his lips. There was an instant outcry, rumors blazed throughout the school. "Silver's a maniac, an emo, a psycho, a vampire. He hurt a bird, a squirrel, another kid, and put on blood like lipstick."

"Shut up, you guys!" Venice barked during class beside his brother, who, as he had no idea whether or not he really _was _a psycho, was shrinking away under the desk. "My little brother's not a freak! If you ask me, I'll tell you that _you're _psychos for picking on somebody who's different and acting weird. We're _all _acting weird!"-After all, this _was_ in middle school,-"So just leave Silver alone!"

It'd shut them up a lot, but there were still whispers. "Thanks, Venice," Silver said. "You-you really don't think something's wrong with me?"

"Nu-uh," the tween said. "You're fine, Silver. Just 'cause you talk to that one person on Wednesday doesn't mean you're broken. Everybody needs _someone _to talk to, right?"

Silver really missed having his older, athletic brother around to protect him. Maybe he would've come if he'd asked him. No, this was _his _problem. He didn't want Venice seeing what he saw, knowing about Magic and Death, and Goddesses and the like.

_No use looking at the past._

_Shut the &#%$ up, _Reaper. _All you ever care about is the _future, _since it has to end _sometime, _right?_

_At least that's the _only _thing I'm looking at._

_Pfft. Asexual douche._

_#$%*^&in' bisexual p#$*%._

Ow. Silver touched the back of his head as he felt something pluck inside him.

_Geeeezzzzz…_

* * *

"Are you sure about what he said?" the hooded figure across the table asked. Several other hoods circled the long oval table.

"I'm sure, my Brother," the other informed. "The Mobian said he had an encounter with it. He even saw it _split _before his very eyes."

"What did it look like, Brother?" The lady at the end of the table asked.

"He said it was a silver hedgehog with yellow eyes. A young hedgehog, certainly pre-Opening."

"So what's the problem, Brother?" One hood puffed, chuckling. _"You _know that when a Splitter Opens, it practically kills itself. A person can't be magical and grim, it just can't work out."

"The _problem _is not the Splitter _itself," _the informant insisted. "It's the idea that during this civil war between the Talaiporians a _Witch _and a _Reaper-"_

"Indeed…" the man at the other end of the table stood up. "Brothers and Sisters, if two Talaiporians are having relations and disgusting half-breed children, who's to say that _twenty _Talaiporians aren't having relations and half-breeds?" The others began to grumble, and two other Brothers stood up and pounded their fists on the table.

"So, let's put our efforts to silencing the abomination _and _its filthy parents!"

* * *

"So kid," Rick said, before sipping his coffee, as Silver bit into his thumb over the menu, "you said you were heading to Soleanna?"

Silver was biting his thumb because his mind was grumbling over the suggestions, and secondly to dull the pain of the plucking from earlier. Before the skin was broken, he answered the Mobian. "That's right."

"What for? Got family there, or maybe a girl friend?"

"There's a sort of… _convention _going on there," he said, Mobianizing the idea of gathering with thousands of magic ladies without sounding like a total douche.

"Oh I see. You all alone, kid? Where you from?"

"Holoska." _I don't want a %#^*!in' Touch Down. Ugh, such a heavy plate, Reaper._

"Oh. Cold up there, isn't it?" _Oh my Goddess, Witch… we're starving, here._

"Sure." _Geez, we only got about sixty dollars, here._

"You're not part of that 'Paradise Crusade' cult, are you?" Rick said, a little concerned. Splitter picked up his ears.

"What?" both sides asked. "What's that?"

"Some sort of crazy cult in hoods that believe in some sort of 'box city' that's the root of all evil."

_Sounds like Elysia, _Reaper thought. "Uh, so that's pretty crazy…"

"I know. Hah, they still believe in _witchcraft _and all that jazz. You know, I think some congregations _burn _some supposed witches."

Witch shivered as Reaper insisted on getting answers. "That's despicable. What gives them the right?"

Rick shrugged. "The Pandora Box Story or somethin'."

_Of course…_

* * *

There was just Gaia, Solaris, Pandora and whoever was responsible for the Mobians in the universe. Gaia made the earth, Solaris was responsible for time and the sun, Mobians just wandered about, young and healthy, not dying, innocent. Pandora begin to have children by Solaris and Gaia, but, they weren't like the Mobians. They were infused with different traits of their fathers: Time-Mobians and Magic-Mobians. She knew that there would be a bit of discord between her Mobians and the normal ones.

So then Argus, another deity responsible for space and darkness, constructed a sort of boxed environment on the earth for her children to live in, with the agreement of Gaia, of course. At first, none of the Mobians noticed the "box" on their earth, on the continent near future Apotos, Spangonia and Soleanna. However, when they _did _notice the gap in space where they could not go, the inhabitants outside grew curious. Dangerously so. They tried to figure out what exactly _what _it was and what was inside.

So they tried digging, and the ones who could fly tried landing inside the box to no avail. Then one Mobian began to hit the wall with all his might. The others joined in, throwing rocks, kicking and punching, and then-

Mobians rushed out of the opening, and the whole of the earth the plants, the animals, the Mobians, began to wither and decay. Mobians began to think about things they didn't even know about until they had opened that box.

They realized grimly that they'd made a terrible mistake.

* * *

"Not so," Reaper Shadow's father would have said, "not so. Not so much a mistake, my son. It was inevitable." Shadow's father was Reaper Black Death, whose father had been Reaper Disease, one of the first Reapers from the Box's opening. He'd told him this when he was a boy, growing up in Medieval Spangonia, before the pandemic. Nathan, Reaper Black Death, had just finished telling the story to his son.

"What do you mean?"

"There's always an end to everything. And the Box opening was the end of the Mobian's paradise."

Yes. An end to their paradise. A paradise that they would do anything to take back. Reaper had heard of the Paradise Crusaders before, even bumped shoulders with some occasionally. They were extraordinary; they knew as soon as they met eyes with him that he was a Grim Reaper.

And they tried to get rid of him. Smartly, too. They weren't so blind to the outside world, the Mobian world that they would try to kill him in the open. With the cloaks on when they were meeting or purging their world of Talaiporians, no Mobian law enforcement could be able to identify them.

Shadow had been eyeing a potential murderer when the hoods had forced him into a corner. They were armed with strange weapons and as they pushed him, his sunglasses flew off and landed on the ground.

He closed his eyes, crossed his arms in front of them, and one of them picked up his glasses.

"Aha. These are glasses made with a special sort of glass found on the first continent, in a specific area in between Soleanna and Apotos."

Shadow bit his tongue, squinting to try and identify his attackers. All he could see was a symbol of a tree, and underneath, a chained up box, as flashes of deaths flew by his vision.

"So we've got a Reaper for sure, then," one of the brawnier ones holding Reaper against the wall said.

"Yeah. Let's see which one."

The Crusader faced the Talaiporian square on. Shadow smiled at the determination on his face. Vengeance took _many _forms. It would take a long time for them to figure it out.

He was thankful _she _showed up to return a favor he had done for her a long time ago. The Crusaders would never remember the event, either. She'd done that too, so now, they were both still safe.

"Thanks," he whispered into her ear.

"Oh, you're very welcome," she said, parting with a kiss. "See you later."

Oh, how lovely she was. So lovely, like roses on a tombstone. She was such a great partner, so reliable and faithful.

The blaring horn of a car whooshed past Reaper, snapping out of his daydream. Let's see... He lifted his glasses a few inches above his eyes to make out the trace of the Splitter's trail.

To be honest, Shadow had _always _known about the Splitter. New life had to be noted as well as death, and he had sensed the Splitter. However, as the Splitter had been raised as a Mobian and acted as such until he started to split, he was regarded as such. Reaper watched the splitting teenager go through the confusing stages of having _two _voices of his own, both his, neither good or bad, while surrounded by oblivious Mobians. After all, what if when he realized he could form Death- and Magic-Weapons decided to cap off a student before the estimated time of death?

Then there would be trouble. Ghosts with unfinished business. Reapers and Witches blaming one another for the incident, and an actual civil war over some kid who was likely to Open and die just like that.

He shivered. How awful that must be, to find out what you were, and then suffer an agonizing death, your own brain ripping apart, along with your nerves and everything else in your body, just tearing itself apart, screaming, then your vocal chords tearing and all you could do was cry and be split apart from yourself. Goddess.

If only there was a way for the kid to live... A way for the kid to Open and _not _die. He was just fifteen, not used to pain and death. Goddess, Shadow, a fifteen-hundred plus Reaper, the son of Black Death, didn't even want to _conceive _such torture, let alone have some kid go through it.

There has to be another way, he thought. The hedgehog kept walking towards the direction of the trail, but turned into a pay phone and started to dial a strange number:

9141911492025


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey, can you stop here for a sec, Rick?" Splitter asked, pointing to the parking lot of a Bar-Mart, an international supermarket, having everything from flat screens to bikes to toaster pastries. "I'll be out in a minute, promise," he said, trying not to run to the pharmacy section. He worked his hand to the back of his head, where that seam separating, or rather holding the right and left hemispheres of the brain together. That was where the pain was coming from, like a claw, or a really long fingernail worked its way between limp threads and _pluck! _the strings snapped.

GODDESS #$%*!%#$^#*&!

_WHY THE #%$& DOES IT HURT SO MUCH?!_

_$%#*&#$, Reaper! Aren't you supposed to know this sort of &#%$?!_

_Just calm down. Let me think for a moment... It's the third, isn't it?_

#%*$, _time does fly. Geez, I thought we'd have a bit more time._

_No, we never really had enough time. We were born a ticking time-bomb. _

_We gotta find them fast. #%$& hitchhiking, man, let's just fly there._

The claw plucked at another string, not breaking it, as Splitter picked up a generic brand of ibuprofen. He made his way to the check-out quickly.

_We can't do that, Witch, you know that.-_

_Know what? C'mon, Reaper. Just for a little while. We're _Witch-_hunting, after all._

Pluck. He put a hand on his head again as he reached into the small fridge for a cheap water bottle.

_But.. but..._

Pluck.

-! Uh, sure.

&#%$, _you serious, Reaps? Wow. What's gotten into you? You gonna start winking and flirting?_

_*#% * no. _They noted the plucking again. _I think that when we argue, the pain comes back._

_Pfft. Not like that'll do * #$% right now. What about Rick? We can't just ditch 'im._

_We'll have to wait for the opportune time._

_*&#$%. _Silver trotted back outside where the semi idled. He hopped back in the truck and popped two pills into his mouth and downed them with water. Rick quirked his eyebrow.

"You okay, kid?" he gruffed, eying the ibuprofen in the bag.

After pulling the bottle away from his lips, Silver rubbed an elbow across it. "I'm fine."

"Migraines?"

He disguised a laugh as a pant. "You have no idea," he said, screwing the cap back on.

_It's getting worse, isn't it, Reaper?_

_It's just getting started._

* * *

Witch Selene sat crossed-legged in the chair, aimlessly humming and bobbing her head, tapping her heel to a different beat than the songs she hummed. It was not easy when you were insane: you couldn't tell if the hands on the clock were going forwards or back, if you were still a little girl on her way to the New World or if you were sitting in the waiting room, waiting for your named to be called. What _was _your name, anyway?

"Ms. Leerum?" the nurse said, looking around for a girl, and Insanity stood up to take it up. "Dr. Tooth will see you now."

Oh that's right, she was supposed to see Emel now, about her head and if there was any sort of pill she could take for it. Right. It's the twenty-first-something or other, with electricity and cars. Emel was Dr. Swee Tooth here, and she'd be able to help. Goddess, her head, and she was so confused.

All Witches were supposed to be embodiments of their last name, as Viridian Envy had been very showy, to _provoke _jealousy in others. Emel Addiction was a pharmaceutical chemist, so she could deal drugs, but she also gave out chocolate and other things that were "addictive" to Mobians, anything that could be hard to give up.

But Selene Insanity could cause madness in others, and that strengthened her power, but she was still a _lunatic. _When she Opened, her mind had cleaved in half, world shattered and all rational thinking dissipated. She'd been shipped back to the Spagonian continent overseas to the only psychiatric hospital in the world.

Did she slaughter that town after she escaped? But, wasn't that the reason they thought she was crazy and institutionalized her? Wait... no, wasn't it that they-

"Selene," Emel's voice rang out. Emel, right? Not Mother or the nurses at the-

She shook herself and felt a bit more self-controlled after Emel had done whatever she'd done. The brown Mobian led the dazed hedgehog into a room, shutting and locking the door. There were cupboards everywhere, and other instruments. Selene felt like this was a special, secret place.

"It's getting worse, isn't it, Ms. Insanity?" the rodent sighed, starting to pull out some jars and syringes. "I'm not even sure I'm the one you should be coming to." The crazy Witch rubbed her head and murmured something jumbled. "Your mind is breaking apart."

"Breaking... oh, that's right..." She straightened up, seeming more composed. "I want a medicine that can subdue the main voices in my head. They're bothering me, Emel, and I can't think straight anymore."

"Are you sure that's all to the problem?" Witch Addiction asked, eying the pale girl suspiciously.

"Yes. The mind of my unopened self is still here, fighting with me. The others, those are the ones I can subdue... but that little Witch is making me think I'm still in the past. Please, Emel, just a pill or something for me to take to dull the pain. I feel like it's really breaking apart."

"I see," she mumbled, turning around and pulling out more vials. "And you have a migraine too?"

With a smirk, she replied, "Yeah..." Darkly, and half to herself, "like a Splitter Opening."

* * *

"Hey, Rick," Silver began as the graying Mobian filled up his truck's tank, "I appreciate you getting me this far... but I think I should probably go."

"What?" he gruffed, more in astonishment rather than anger. "Kid, you and your little bike can't handle that thunderstorm coming this way. Didn't you hear the TV when you were grabbing your snacks?"

The hog sighed before sipping his slushie as the middle-aged man rambled on about how it was too dangerous for a kid like him to brave rain, night and wind by himself. "At least stay with me until the storm blows over, Argyle," he insisted.

Drooping his ears, the Splitter looked at the oil-stained pavement of the gas station. Wasn't this whole Splitter a huge storm in the middle of the night that he had to brave alone as he wrestled the pain of his mind breaking apart? Rick was merely a Mobian who thought in his age he'd seen it all. But obviously, he hadn't, otherwise when he'd told Silver about the Paradise Crusaders he would've known exactly why they accused people of being Witches and burning them up.

If he'd known, he would've never let Silver hitchhike with him. All the buzzing in his ears, whispers of _Splitter, _by harsh-toned strangers, he thought that word he'd let slip had gotten out, and found its way to the cult.

Soon, a _real_ civil war between the Talaiporians would break out if both sides, or perhaps even just _one _of them, found out.

"I'm sorry, Rick," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, and his head, "I don't wanna take off in _this, _but, I have to go to Soleanna, and it's more than that con thing I told you about."

Rick's eyebrows quirked. "Are you running from someone, Argyle?"

"No, Rick," Witch puffed with a laugh, then Reaper stepped back in, "it's just that going to Soleanna is very important to me, and... I gotta brave it alone, you know?"

"Fighting a personal battle, huh?" Rick crossed his arms as he laughed half-heartedly. "Well, kid, you sure are the strangest boy I've ever seen, and that's saying something, with all the hikers I've put up with. And even though you say you've got it all under control... I'm not sure if you're right about that."

_He's right about _that, Reaper said as Witch let a smirk cross Silver's face.

"Don't worry about me, Rick," they both said, coming out like a little Silver unaware of Magic or Death cleaving his body in half. "I've come a long way, and I'm almost there."

That last bit was a total lie. Even if the young Splitter got to Soleanna, he'd win only a fourth of the battle. Just because _most _Witches attended didn't mean his mother did. And Reapers didn't gather together in Mobian cities.

And that mother was a whole guess; only 4% of Magic Talaiporians were male, Goddess, his _dad _might be the Witch and the mom the Reaper!

He scratched his head, and was reminded of the importance of his whole quest. He was Opening; he could feel his arms and legs pulse and quiver with growing power. Maybe the headaches were another sign, too.

_Wrong, kid._

Who the *#%$?- Silver tried to use his peripheral so not to look edgy. Who was that? How'd he get inside his head? The voice had puffed and it sounded a bit older than him, borderline adult, but with the tone of a middle-aged man. It even seemed vaguely familiar to him…

"Well…Alright, kid," Rick finally gruffed. "But I don't like the look of that storm."

"I'll avoid it," he said, just waving at Rick as he wheeled Broom away, the trucker blowing the horn for him as he pulled out of the gas station.

_We've never done this before, _Reaper realized. _Let's run down Rick and-_

_ Big #$%&$#*, _Witch snickered. _It's just riding a bike._

_ Vroom, _the bike growled. _Vroom. Vroom, Vroo-VROOM!_

"Aw... I missed you too," Silver said, rubbing her windshield. He crouched down, and _whooosh! _He was off, and soon was speeding down a dirt road.

_Please reconsider, Witch._

_ #&$%# no, Reaps! Walk to Soleanna if you're so paranoid! _

What would have been the nitros switch on Broom was flicked on. and her exhaust began to spew a flame cone. The dark horizon began to blur together, the needle on the speedometer twitched around the hundred and twenty mark.

There was a thud, and Witch leaned back, making Broom stand on her back wheel, and-

A weightless feeling blew through Splitter's body. He was climbing into the clouds-

_I'm flying._

Neither side could tell who said that; it was just agreed. Flying. Flying off into the sky.

_"YAHOOOOO!" _Silver howled, as he rocketed into a cloud.


End file.
